


i will walk across the wire, but i won't watch you burn away

by prettyshiroic (dinosuns)



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Bittersweet, Desperation, Developing Relationship, Falling In Love, Lotor POV, Love Confessions, M/M, Mission Fic, Post-Season/Series 04, Space Battles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-02
Updated: 2018-03-02
Packaged: 2019-03-25 20:53:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,193
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13842831
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dinosuns/pseuds/prettyshiroic
Summary: “I believe they’re trying to flush us out,” Lotor murmurs, mouth brushing Keith’s ear.Tilting his head, Keith slips further into his orbit. At this angle, their faces are closer than strictly necessary. It’s easier for Lotor to delude himself into believing that’s purely to communicate better. But he knows better than that.





	i will walk across the wire, but i won't watch you burn away

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TereziMakara](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TereziMakara/gifts).



> happy vld positivity day 8))

“Kolivan, do you copy?” Keith yells into his earpiece, weaving fluently in and out of combat with their attackers.

There’s a breathlessness to his voice, splitting open the rasp that accompanies it. That’s indicative of how he throws every piece of himself into the battle without hesitation. Out of habit, Lotor keeps himself close. The paladins have each other’s back on this field, and have been systematically separated from them. Whilst Keith is an incredible fighter, there is something continuously alarming in his movements. He exposes too much, reveals too much. Most would call Keith unpredictable, Lotor disagrees. Keith is neither unpredictable, nor is he formulaic. But he is undoubtedly passionate, the fierce intensity of his disposition oozes from him.

In an unforgiving fight, it could be the difference between a win and a catastrophic loss. So Lotor strives to guard his back at the very least. It’s essential. Hissing, Keith lunges forwards to take out another droid.    

“Kolivan, we’ve been ambushed! It - we’re losing ground. I’m sorry.”

To think, the premise of this mission had been so straightforward. The Roanim people wished the join the Coalition, sending a distress signal for emergency aid. In return for supplies and protection, their leader Dirgo assured Team Voltron they would have the full support of their planet in the fight against the empire. Their numbers were a temptation the Coalition could not refuse. But above that came the priority to answer those in need. And so, travelling in two lions and a sentry ship piloted by Keith, they had made their way to the main Roanim settlement.

The tactician ticking away within had forewarned Lotor that this would not be as simple as it seemed. However, outlining as much before they all landed on Roanias would have been met with irrefutable suspicion. Lotor is aware enough of his circumstances to understand at this point in the unlikely partnership he has with the coalition where the threshold lies. And considering he needs to remain in this circle for the meantime, has limited options and chances otherwise, unless necessary he is resolved to keep it from risk of a collapse.  

Though that does not negate the fact that it is most unfortunate their first offensive operation as a group, in which Team Voltron willingly allowed Lotor to join them on the field rather than assist on the sidelines with information, has led to them falling into a trap. The condition had been Keith joined them for insurance and assurance, proving on the training deck he could hold his own impressively well against Lotor. The moment Team Voltron had left their lions, the moment Keith and Lotor had joined them at the meet-up point outside the headquarters of the Roanim base, they had spun themselves into a web too elaborate to untangle from where they stand. 

They’re currently in the middle of a plaza, the crates of supplies Voltron had brought forms an impromptu barricade between them and the majority of relentless gunfire. Needless to say, the Ronaims are far from distressed and impoverished. Their droid soldiers are rife in numbers. Securing the general perimeter had quickly become their first priority. Being pushed back to cower behind the crates would leave them entirely at the mercy of their enemy. Shiro had been  right about that as he hastily gave the team orders.

Without much thought to his own situation, Keith had charged forwards to maintain the front lines. Lotor had followed suit. As did Shiro, despite Keith’s sharp insistence they could handle it.

“I’m not putting this team in jeopardy!” Keith had shouted above the gunfire and sounds of warfare. His voice insistent. _Imploring._ Jeopardy. Again, went unsaid. Lotor had come to notice that was a word that haunted Keith, stalked him down. Having learnt of Keith’s time in the black lion, it became a little clearer why this shook him to the core.  

The biting words are born from care, and also an honourable sense of duty Keith carried everywhere during missions. In retrospect, Team Voltron are the most valuable people here. Thus in this battle, Keith had decided that his purpose and worth hinged entirely upon protecting them no matter what. His former team, his friends - it was his responsibility to keep them safe. He’d had that responsibility once before, and it seemed he felt immeasurable guilt for the outcome of that.  

From behind them now, Lance and Hunk continue to offer support through long-distance shooting. Pidge and Princess Allura focus on the droids that Keith and Lotor were unable to catch in combat.  It’s an efficient enough system, only they are severely outnumbered. The sheer endurance required here is slowly but surely whittling this team down.

And despite it never being vocalised or acknowledged, there’s a heaviness that straddles Lotor’s shoulders. With each swing of his blade, the pressure squeezes around his throat and their faces explode behind his eyelids with each and every blink. These people have become personal minefields across his mind, laid out with such dangerous and cunning precision. Lotor expects no less - to know oneself, to understand what drives and in turn what destroys you, can be one’s own unravelling. The more he blinks, the more they distort and bear every intention of hostility. Rage. Betrayal.

Fangs gnawing at his lip, Lotor cuts cleanly through an oncoming strike. The opponent has no chance of parrying back. Even as fire shoots up his arms and burns ferociously until his bones are charred, his stance is unparalleled. The fire pushing against him isn’t truly there, of course. Because unlike Keith, it’s not fire that coarses through his veins and fashions his entire being into the meagre existence he currently holds here with the coalition. Rather, it is the sparks from a galvanism whipping his soul into motion. Nonetheless, phantom heat from the sun he perilously passed over in order to survive another day lingers on his skin. It marks him. What’s more, it serves as an unwarranted and deeply disturbing reminder to recents events that had occurred.

In times like this, where the battle calls for his utmost and undivided attention, it is perhaps worse than the amalgamations of their tormented broken expressions flickering in and out of focus.

“We’re losing ground,” Keith observes, pushing against the mass of droids barrelling into him. There’s desperation in the pinch of his eyebrows. “I don’t think we can hold them for much longer!”

Despite the trio’s skills and commendable efforts in holding the frontline back, the brute force of these droids continues to gradually push them further and further back into the centre of the plaza.

“Everyone, take cover now! Get behind the cargo crates!” Shiro orders to the paladins behind them who swiftly head to their one and only defensive position left. Making his way to their flimsy fortress, Shiro barks out another command. “Keith, Lotor - fallback!”

Beside Lotor, Keith holds his ground and widens his stance. Spinning on his heel to take out the next flurry of droids, Lotor narrows his eyes. Despite being capable of assessing that their odds are slim, that this onslaught of endless fighting is doing them no favours, Keith persists. He refuses to yield.

“The paladins are secure,” Lotor prompts. “If we are to move let it be as one unit.”

Keith still persists, the frustration palpable in every hit he makes. This course of action is futile. Lotor is aware Keith is no fool. But there’s something within Keith that is ever concerning. There’s a streak of self-sacrifice, paired with the urgency to see a task through. This combination is lethal when amplified by determination that is unbreakable. Keith’s current silence against the onslaught of droids is disheartening. Closing his eyes, Lotor tries again. The Roanim guards are advancing behind the droids, giving them nowhere to run. Hiding is a last resort, but it provides a temporary buffer. Currently they are outnumbered. Severely so.

“Keith!”

The tension in his spine finally breaks as Keith leans against Lotor’s back. Confirmation. But not resignation. There’s a fierce resistance ablaze around him, searing and unyielding. They’re pressed close. Lotor sincerely hopes he won’t have to resort to dragging Keith backwards by his hood. They don’t have time to keep fighting. Fortunately, Keith finally responds and gives an answer.

“Let's move!” he calls over his shoulder. Together, they clear the path from droids and dive towards the crates. They land with a thud, shoulders and knees bumping. Lance offers them a thumbs up from Team Voltron’s vantage point further down. It’s a pointless gesture of encouragement.

Leaning his head back, Lotor watches Keith regain his breath.

“I had concerns about this venture, I admit.” It’s the closest thing to _I told you so_ Lotor is willing to offer. Gloating is counterintuitive here, considering they’re still in the throes of a terribly farcical ambush. Keith quirks an eyebrow at him incredulously.

“Yeah, well-” Keith pokes his head round the crate to get a better view at their opponents. “That would’ve helped more before we became sitting ducks.”

Lotor had considered pointing it out on multiple occasions, but held his tongue. Offering contributions to the group plans is seldom welcomed. The luxury of being on this mission is enough of a rarity. He doesn’t begrudge them for their distrust. Keeping some level of wariness is to be applauded. Even the closest of allies could strike you down with the very weapons that were once pledged to your cause.

There’s a dark twisting irony in that.

And immediately, that heaviness is back on his shoulders.

Lotor glances over to Team Voltron, huddled behind their own collection of crates. The firepower they’re enduring is sure to destroy this makeshift barricade all too soon. All of them surely know that time is not their ally here.

“What now?” Keith grunts, eyes locked on Lotor rather than the others. Despite Team Voltron leading this mission, he is clearly expecting to tap into Lotor’s own extensive experience with combat. Before he can formulate a response, the gunfire hurtling towards them ceases. It’s abrupt, suspiciously so.

“Hold your positions!” Shiro’s voice rings out in the eerie silence.

Tension snakes its way into Keith’s shoulders, Lotor can feel the shift. Not just in his stance, his entire demeanour hardens. One glance towards Keith confirms he’s entirely on edge. Teeth are gritted, eyebrows tightly woven together above conflagrant eyes. Being rendered to inertia is unnatural for Keith. Highly uncomfortable for him to digest. Upon close observation since their paths crossed, Lotor has come to learn that Keith gets irritable when caged into such a stasis. That irritation is unrefined, wild and dangerous to nobody besides himself. Thus in the moment Keith starts to fidget, as if tearing himself free from the reigns holding him here, Lotor reaches out to brace him. Their eyes meet in the unbearable, thick quiet unfolding across the plaza. The static charge sends an untimely shiver down his spine. Then there’s the magnitude of Keith’s passion and perseverance, a marvel to witness firsthand. It will never not be fascinating and entirely engaging.

With a weak nod, Keith slumps back against the crate in bitter defeat. In any other situation, Lotor would find it interesting that he makes no move to release himself from the firm grip. For now, that warrants no comment. Across from them, the paladins appear to be just as jittery over this unexpected stalemate.

“I believe they’re trying to flush us out,” Lotor murmurs, mouth brushing Keith’s ear.

Tilting his head, Keith slips further into his orbit. At this angle, their faces are closer than strictly necessary. It’s easier for Lotor to delude himself into believing that’s purely to communicate better. But he knows better than that, he catches the unmistakable hitching of Keith’s breath moments prior. Once again, it’s hardly the time or place to comment.

“So what do we do about it?”

Suddenly, the plaza lights up with a curious green hue. Instinctively, the paladins get to their feet to look over the crates and investigate.

“It’s a forcefield!” Pidge confirms. “They’ve blocked us inside!”

Hoisting himself up to his feet, Lotor takes in the sight for himself. On the other side of the forcefield, the droids are no longer present. Rather, there stands Dirgo himself and a few Roanim guards.

“Damn it.” Keith slams a fist against the surface of the crate, frustrating ready to snap.

“Oh man, how are we supposed to get out of this?!” Lance asks, prodding the edge of the forcefield closest to him with his bayard. The results are nonexistent.

“We’re not,” Keith quips back, clicking his tongue.

Taking a step to the edge the forcefield behind them, Lotor trails a finger slowly across it. As he does so, it pixelates and tingles.

“It appears to be crafted with quintessence,” he assesses. It’s not Galra technology, however. The distinctive lack of purple and magenta isn’t the only clue. The energy is infused differently, in a way the Galra never quite could manage. “I have seen such a design before, though I was unaware it had advanced further than the testing stages.”

Pidge turns to Hunk, already trying to figure out a way to study the forcefield and break through it. Beside Lotor, Keith huffs.

“This whole time, they set us up.”

“Given our current circumstances I presumed we had long since established that…”  It’s no time for wry jokes and subtle jabs leading nowhere besides private amusement. However, Keith’s presence is terribly persuasive, he often has Lotor giving up more than originally expected. Catching his eyes pointedly, Keith purses his lips.  

Dirgo strides forwards, a navy cloak trailing behind him. In the waning light of the two suns setting to the west, it shimmers.

“Uh, I hate to be that person to drag the whole team spirit down of Voltron and Co,” Hunk begins nervously. “But we’re kind of trapped in a giant forcefield, and completely surrounded by people who most definitely are not our friends. I mean, we thought they were but they’re not and now we’re trapped. Did - did I mention we’re trapped because _we’re totally trapped!”_

The commentary is most unhelpful, however Lotor suspects it’s born from apprehension as opposed to anything else.

Dirgo’s voice rings out across the plaza, summoning everyone’s attention.

“The Roanims will not bow to the whims of the coalition. We stand with the Galra Empire. Consider this your final few moments to live as captives, and die as traitors.”

The words cement everything Lotor has already begun to suspect. Dirgo is evading a number of truths intentionally, only with poorly chosen words. By doing so it has revealed his inexperience of Empire’s dealings. As a token of loyalty, it is likely Dirgo devised this plan to capture Voltron for Zarkon. And considering the lack of Galra technology on this planet, this is to be a new alliance. Furthermore, from what Lotor can gather, Roanias is terribly out of touch with the Empire and uninvolved with its current affairs. That is practically confirmed given they have made no move to arrest him, the estranged Prince and fugitive with a sizeable bounty on his head.

Walking forwards, Lotor puts his observations to the test.

“People of Roanias,” he addresses the guards and their leader with confidence. Behind him, Keith and the paladins remain out of earshot, deliberating their options. They’re not exactly in a position to negotiate, even the Princess. When he reaches the edge of the forcefield, Lotor’s eyes linger on Dirgo. “I trust you know who I am.”

Dirgo watches his approach cautiously. But as predicted, there is no recognition or attempts to apprehend him. It seems at the moment, Lotor is just another nameless soldier fighting in the name of the coalition. That is certainly an advantage he can exploit. It’s difficult to stifle the satisfied smirk skating over his lips.

With just a few sentences, Dirgo has revealed so much of his planet’s situation.

It’s so very careless, and it’s going to be their undoing.

“In that case, allow me to introduce myself. I am Prince Lotor of the Galra Empire, son of Zarkon.”

The guards murmur amongst themselves, Dirgo’s eyes widen. And this is where Lotor can skew this in his favour without much effort. Caught off-guard, Dirgo visibly flinches. Brandishing his sword, Lotor pokes the barrier with the tip. It’s not intended to be a bold threat, more a gesture of intimidation by making clear his position of power. Judging by the uncertainty in the guards, it works. Revealing his former title, his parentage, is enough for Dirgo himself to balk. The barrier lifts.

“My liege…” There’s a stammer in the leader’s voice as he falls to one knee and bows. Lotor swoops in without hesitation.

“Unless you wish to suffer the wrath of my father, I suggest you lower the weapons trained on my person.”

On cue, the guards retreat. Dirgo’s eyes drift questioningly over to the paladins of Voltron. He is mulling over their fate, whilst aware that will most likely defer to the Prince of the Empire’s verdict. Lotor keeps his eyes fixed ahead, feigning disinterest. Looking back now would be too much of a risk. If he appears too familiar or somehow considerate of them, the ruse will be over. In truth, he also does not want to see Keith’s expression morph into hurt. Anger. Betrayal. He does not want that face to be added to the ones that singe his eyes.

“Keep them alive,” he orders. “I’m quite sure that together we can come to an agreement of sorts to secure your place in this Empire. Presenting my father with two lions and all five paladins of Voltron is an impressive feat that will not go without reward.”

“What about the other one?” one guard asks and Lotor has to clench his jaw hard enough for teeth to clank together in order to avoid snapping his gaze in their direction.

Keith is an exception to every rule. He is not a weakness, nor is he a strength. To reduce Keith to either of those is perhaps the greatest insult to the exceptional person Lotor has glimpsed in their time together. But regardless of that, Keith has become an unknowing and _unacceptable_ pressure point that is the most difficult to burst. Under no circumstances can that be made apparent.

With a surge of courage he plucks from his rattling chest, Lotor glances over at Keith. There’s palpable shock paling his face. Wide vacant eyes stare back at him. Slowly, they fill with a disbelieving look, and it grows too close to a cataclysmic devastation that cleaves open everything. Averting his gaze, Lotor pushes past the lump in his throat that bruises with every swallow.

“Still useful,” lifting his head challengingly, he stares Dirgo down. “That one is a former paladin of Voltron and current member of the Blade of Marmora. My father has been attempting without success to gather intelligence on their organisation.”  

The information seems to be enough to crush any, albeit tentative, opposition. Dirgo instructs the guards to take action with a click of his fingers. However, there remains an eagerness to please and impress. As the guards march past Lotor with vigour, he smiles disarmingly.

“Prepare their holding cells,” Lotor addresses Dirgo sharply, giving no room for him to be undermined. Assuming control at this stage is paramount. “The guards and myself will escort them there.”

Dirgo retreats. Spinning on his heel, Lotor faces the group in time to watch the paladins being shoved onto their knees. With as much conviction as he can muster, Lotor calculatedly walks towards them. It’s slow, steady. Predatory. As if they’re back on Thayserix all over again.

“No!” Allura shrieks, struggling against the guard’s grip.  

Keith, by comparison, is still. He falls to his knees compliantly and without any fuss. He is so very still, expression blank. The image is jarring and foreboding. Unlike before in the heat of battle, Keith has chosen the same stasis that goes against everything he stands for. Lotor drags his attention away, meeting eyes with a furious Pidge.

“How could you do this?” she snarls.

“Quite comfortably and with ease I assure you,” Lotor coos, walking between them with fabricated poise.

It is strange, to think there had been a time something of this design would have thrilled him to execute. That to have team Voltron at his mercy was favourable. Now, however, it has his chest tightening. This situation is not as black and white as it seems. The art of deception and the act of betrayal are two entirely different things. There is nothing to be proud of in the latter. The former is workable.   

His response opens up the inevitable swirling of animosity from the paladins. Lifting his head, Shiro glares.

“So that's how it is. The second things get rough, you give us up. That's not how a team works.”

The opportune moment to sell this performance has finally come.

“I was under the impression we were simply confined for mutual convenience,” Lotor turns his head and meets Keith’s eyes. They’re not empty anymore, which is an improvement. “Nothing more.”

Keith breaks the eye contact, turning his entire face away.

“You monster!” Allura spits, shoving hard against the guards. Such a thing would be amusing in different circumstances. For now, Lotor is being dastardly predictable, playing the unfavourable villain alongside the heroes of the universe.

In fact, it is mildly offensive to think that after countless contributions to the coalition’s cause he has been so easily believed.  

“Call it an act of self-preservation,” Lotor muses with the most elegant of shrugs. The gesture is easier to commit to when imagining he’s shedding that heavyweight clamping down on him. Despite his responses, he has a dwindling amount of confidence in this moment. The bonds were shaky between him and Team Voltron at best in the first place.

And then there is Keith.

“Take them away,” Lotor barks the order out. His tone is brittle and sharper than glass, splintering the silence. It’s born from the very real concern he feels towards Keith, who has been so unnaturally quiet.

The Paladins struggle uselessly against the guards as they’re hoisted up to their feet. As they’re led out the plaza and into the large building ahead, Lotor takes this moment to assess their surroundings. The guards would be easy enough to take out with a few strikes. He is unwilling to forget so readily the number of droids at their disposal. However, their environment is different now. The plaza gave them no vantage points. A dimly lit, thin corridor with countless hallways tapering off it offers a far better chance of escape.

“I knew it. We should have never trusted that guy,” Lance laments, seemingly not bothered that Lotor can hear every word.

Nobody responds. They reach the holding cells and Dirgo. Smirking, Lotor peers into the cells as if inspecting whether they are up to standard. This is close to being over now.

“My father will be most pleased with your work here, as am I. Soon, Voltron will be where it belongs: in hands of the empire.”

“No!”

The voice Lotor had simultaneously yearned to hear yet hoped would not interfere catches everyone’s attention. Keith, who had not said a single word, who had been so alarmingly still, flourishes into an animated spectacle.

“You can’t do this. You won’t I-” The guard behind Keith jolts in surprise at the sheer ferocity in his voice. "I know you won't _. I know you_.”

Raising his chin, Lotor hums. Warmth swells in his chest, but he stamps it out. This is for the sake of all of them. He cannot falter until the threat has passed. 

“Evidently not. For here I am, having betrayed you all.”

Cruel and unkind amusement resides in his expression, he does his best to put it there and _keep_ it there. It’s imperative Lotor becomes the person everyone assumed he could be, live up to the hearsay. Only now Keith has broken his silence and sprung into action, there is a problem. Because unlike most people, Keith refuses to indulge hearsay and rumours. He looks further than expected to make a judgement. Above all, he always manages to scrub away nonsense and pluck out the truth no matter what it is.

He won’t stop until he has found what he’s looking for.

“That doesn’t even make any sense! It’s “

Oh dear, Keith is evidently not going to stop.

“Do you really think Zarkon will welcome you back after everything?”

That has Dirgo stirring, evidently confused by the conflicting words.

“What is he talking about?”

Lotor narrows his eyes, bristling despite himself. But Keith must’ve caught the subtle twist of his lips, because suddenly he’s fighting harder against the guards holding him in place. His eyes are ablaze with cutting insistence that cannot be dowsed and cast aside. The flames are spilling over every inch of him. And all of this, not only in an attempt at trying to stop Lotor. But to save him. That’s evermore clear now Zarkon has been mentioned.

This could be Lotor’s reckoning.  

“ _Please,”_ Keith hisses desperately, frantically. “You don't have to do this.”

“I already have,” Lotor replies fluently. But there's the faintest tremble in his voice he already knows Keith won’t let go of. This unexpected unraveling is not of his own doing. Keith’s earnest nature, his sincerity, is continuously a surprise that was not factored into this plan.  

“Keith, I’m sorry.” Bowing his head, Shiro clenches his teeth. His eyes flick over to cast Lotor a dejected look. “It looks like Lotor isn’t the person we thought he was. We’re on our own now.”

Of all people, Lotor understands that Keith listens to Shiro. If there is anybody who can talk him down from this, it is the black paladin. Their bond is forged in something unspeakably strong, something not even the fabric of time can splinter.

“No,” Keith says. He sounds so sure suddenly, so very firm. His unwavering belief is unprecedented. Despite surpassing being repetitive in his objections, he continues as if he has nothing to lose. It’s completely absurd. “Lotor, you’re not choosing this.”

“Your denial is a delusion,” Lotor tries, hoping that will deter Keith from inadvertently sabotaging his entire plan. They're _so close_ now. The guards are stumped, unsure of how to proceed. However, Keith’s words have planted a seed of doubt in Dirgo’s mind. That is clear enough from the way the leader clenches a fist.

“Lotor, I-”

There is no other choice to make now. Lotor brings a hand to the bridge of his nose, pinching tightly. The gesture is enough for the waning illusion to fully shatter. Dirgo, the once pliant leader, is slipping from his grasp. The guards grow wary. Lotor had never considered this level of conflict. For him. _This is for him_ , not against him. It is baffling.

Before anyone can question the uncharacteristic behaviour, Lotor draws his blade and promptly disarms all six guards in a matter of seconds. Dirgo reaches for his own weapon, only he's a fraction too late. It is quite amusing to think the leader thought he had a chance. Lotor’s sword is already at his neck, pressing enough to draw a thin trail of blood. Then with a swift flick of his wrist, he knocks Dirgo out. Taking lives for the sake of theatricals is distasteful and unappealing.

Behind him, the group are silent.

“What um - what just... happened? Is anyone else confused? Am - am I the only with questions?” Hunk glances between the disarmed guards and Lotor.

“Lotor saved us!” Pidge exclaims. “He’s on our side again.”

“Yeah. _For now._ _”_ Lance eyes Lotor cautiously.

“He never left our side,” Keith corrects. The smile spreading over his face is full of unashamed affection. Not relief. Not frustration. Lotor has no idea what to do with it, is unsure how he can possibly be worthy of such a look from Keith.

Clearing his throat, he swings his sword elaborately.

“Everyone, I must thank you for doubting me so convincingly. Your poor judgement of my character ensured we could get to this point completely unscathed. We could well have gone further if it were not for Keith and his… unshakeable faith in me.” Voice softening, Lotor locks eyes with Keith. He hopes the expression he wears mirrors everything Keith chose to share with him. “That of a magnitude which I never could have predicted.”

“We will talk about this scheme of yours later,” Allura says though there’s a twist of her lips that indicates she’s on the precipice of saying something rather unbecoming for a Princess on an escape mission. “Now let's go!”

\--

“I’m sorry I doubted you,” Keith says the second they’re alone in Lotor’s chambers.

The duration of their walk back here had been too quiet. Keith’s pace had been brisk, laced in agitation. Now it begins to make sense with the outburst.

“It is I who ought to apologise for putting you in such a position.”

“But it -” Keith rakes a hand through his hair, sighing. “I should’ve known what you were doing.”

“The plan only worked because nobody knew my true intentions.” Lotor’s lips curl into a smile that aches. Perhaps Keith will indulge him if he strives for something humourous. “At least until a stubborn blade decided to intervene. My entire operation was sabotaged.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about...” There’s a lilt to Keith’s voice that wasn’t there before. His eyes gleam with soft understated amusement.

“Perhaps I ought to have given you a signal so you could be sure.” Lotor blinks quickly. “Something like that.”

Keith scrunches his nose, pouting. It is distracting in the most impossible way. Evidently, he missed the gesture. “Like what?”  

“This.” Lotor blinks slower this time. Keith mirrors the action, only out of budding irritation. It appears that they are not on the same page with this at all. Lotor resorts to explaining it. “If you look closely, you’ll see my right eye closed faster than my left. It indicates a gesture of trust, which you have missed twice now.”

“Wait, you…” Keith stirs it over, chewing his lip to try and hide the budding smile. He fails. “You were trying to _wink?”_

“Is that not how you do it?"

Keith laughs. But it’s not unkind - of course it’s not.

“No.” Shaking his head, Keith grins. “I mean, at least where I grew up you only close one eye. Like this.”

Meeting Lotor’s gaze, Keith performs the gesture of trust and it’s transformed instantaneously into something far more graceful. One eyelid flickers, almost. Quick and rapid. If Lotor hadn’t been searching for it, he may well have missed it. The curve of Keith’s lips, the mischievous flicker in his eyes gives the entire thing a cheeky element that Lotor had not expected to see.

It’s very charming.

“Once again, you hold every ounce of my attention.”

“Stop it. That's embarrassing,” Keith ducks his head, voice reduced to a mumble.

The amusement fizzles out gradually, leaving them in a similar stasis to earlier behind the crates in the height of battle. And that is partly why Lotor decides he ought to finally breach the subject hovering over their heads.

“I’m afraid there may come a time where such a scene will not be entirely for show,” Lotor begins with great care. But realistically, there is no subtle way to address this. Keith freezes, eyes wide. He quickly understands they are no longer talking about signals and ruses. “One day, we may have to part ways under unfavourable circumstances.”

“...I know.” Keith’s breath is ragged and raw. It is one of the most displeasing things Lotor has had the misfortune of hearing.

“It is most unfortunate. The universe was not designed to accommodate such a partnership as ours.”

“Can’t we just…-rearrange it?” Keith hisses, hot unshed tears glisten in the dimly-lit room. Those eyes are agonisingly expressive. Lotor hums. It sounds absent - hollow. Because it is. Hollow.  

This is a suggestion that will take them nowhere, futile and foolish. But it’s sincere. And that sincerity deepens the ache in Lotor’s chest. For Keith to submerge himself in the worst kind of hope - one that will never be acted upon and paradoxically becomes openly _hopeless_ \- is a frightening spectacle. Of all people in the universe, Keith deserves something that won’t expire, something that isn’t already eroding in the hands of time. He has constantly lost, constantly sacrificed. No matter his efforts of endurance.

Keith is carved from endurance. In comparison, Lotor is fashioned from evolution. He is always adapting, always learning. Keith deduces his exits, Lotor deduces his openings. The polarities in the means of ensuring their survival are entirely, perhaps even dismally, incompatible in the face of this war. The universe neither unkind or unfair, it simply is. Still, in this moment Lotor denounces his admiration of it. If it were possible, he would cast a single strike through the centre of whatever mighty force decided to continuously smear such melancholic misfortune across Keith’s path.

Biting down on his lip hard, Keith continues. The strain is palpable in his voice, each word heavy, as if lodged uncomfortably in his throat.

“We’re out here fighting for a better future. You included. You’re helping us.”

Clicking his tongue, Lotor tilts his head. It’s not coy evasion, more a resigned admission. “I suppose I am also helping myself.”

“Isn’t everyone?” Keith counters smoothly with a humourless laugh, and that just won’t do. Lotor will not allow Keith to fall into such a rhetoric, even if the intention is rendering this conversation a pedantic, unnecessary one. Keith is not selfish; he never has been selfish or self-serving. From all Lotor has observed, he has come to understand that there is not an ounce of such a thing in Keith’s body.

“Not you. In all my life, I have never met a person quite as remarkable as you,” Lotor replies without reserve, knowing just where to strike the right chords. The way Keith leans forwards indicates Lotor has succeeded.

“ _You’re still helping us,”_ Keith insists, voice cracking.

“Yes, for now. Though there is no telling what the future may bring our way in this war,” Lotor admits. The bleakness of his words misplaces the smile he strives to maintain. “You do whatever you must. And when that time comes, I will not deprive you of your choice.”

Sucking in a breath, Lotor drags his eyes across Keith’s face. As their eyes meet, the churning in his gut lessens. Here, in the hushed quiet, this might be their one and only moment to take a risk. Perhaps be foolish, for just a moment. Then again, there is nothing foolish about this feeling whatsoever. That thought alone, prompts him to speak.

“Nor will I love you any less.”  

Keith opens his mouth then shuts it a few times, eyes widening. The gears are turning, and they’re moving in a way far too elaborate for Lotor to follow. It could lead them anywhere. The ball is entirely in Keith’s court now. Suddenly, there’s a determined expression. It’s everything Lotor had hoped to see despite their circumstances.

In one swift movement, Keith dives forwards. There is the embodiment of passion, the heat of a fire and the combination is as dizzying as it is enticing. Nothing is done by halves with Keith, no action is ever wasted. Hands slide through hair and tug enough for their chests to press together. Then abruptly it’s over. Keith’s breath ghosts across his cheek, hands flying frantically back to his side.

“Sorry. I - I- I’m sorry. I am so sorry, that’s… I mean, I should’ve asked - I-”

Up until this point, Lotor had been unsure if it were possible to cram anymore warmth between his ribs. Capturing Keith’s face in his trembling hands, Lotor draws him back in. That appears to be enough confirmation for Keith. He pours his entirety into every press of his lips, the slow yet tentative flick of his tongue. That wonderful mouth moves with such searing intent to kindle a response and _oh_ \- how it does. It is all so very much Keith, so very much everything that has coaxed Lotor hopelessly and admittedly helplessly further in from the very beginning.

And in this moment, Lotor believes in this - he believes in their story. He hears the whispered, unspoken words dancing across Keith’s lips with insistence. He feels them etched into his skin again and again and again. This love is not swayed by tragedy or bitter poignancy. This love is not dictated by events bigger than them, marred by circumstance. Although there will come times they are tested and pushed and choices are made in spite of themselves and their feelings, this love is not misplaced or lost. It will be nurtured between their hands, crafted in their own unique design, because now it is so abundantly clear that it belongs to nobody else and nothing else.

This love is entirely theirs.

**Author's Note:**

> K E I TO R !!!!!!!!


End file.
